| In T.O. |
| I was laughing
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| At my friend who sold his soul
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| I guess it wouldn’t’ve been so funny had I not sold mine for less
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| Orange smokestacks in the sunset casting shadows until our faces drowned
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| It’s better to have left and laughed than never to have left at all
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| I found myself on a subway coming above the ground
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| I used to tango
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| But that, that was then
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| I danced too close to the band that’s how I got this ringing in my ears
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| And sometimes I just can’t sleep from the sound
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| I can’t hear it during the day, It’s just at night or when things get quiet
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| Like when the subway comes above the ground
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| In Tennessee, I went looking
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| For someone to throw me against the wall
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| I wanted to be inspired until disheartened, spend the money I’d hard-earned
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| Oh, just to see his name with flashing yellow lights bulbs all around
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| But he left us in the Mississippi
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| He wasn’t even thirty-one
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| If only he’d come up like a subway from the ground
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| In springtime, I was standing
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| With a brown dog by my side
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| I was sweating I was staring at Mayan ruins
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| Then I was next to you on that bus going straight out of town
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| From Memphis and Nashville to New York City
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| Your jaw was wide and pretty
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| And you turned to me and said, «Am I in ruins like the outskirts of the city
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| where all the subways come above ground?»
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| And I said no
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| In Iceland, it was festival season
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| And I went knocking at your door
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| You opened up and there you were
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| With the halo of the porch-light you were crowned
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| We stayed up all night
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| Phrases fading like countryside in the rearview mirror
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| I was hoping that one day you’d be next to me or at least somewhere near
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| When the subway comes above the ground |